The Reconciliation of Honor
by MaraLSky
Summary: Possible missing scene for The Gathering Storm. Don't read if you haven't read it yet. :


**Author's Note:** I loved _The Gathering Storm_, but one thing bugged me about it. I felt Siuan and Gawyn needed to have a chat; the last time they had met, Gawyn very much wanted to kill her. This is my take on what I feel is a missing scene. Reviews are always appreciated.

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Gawyn Trakand was becoming impatient. No, he was long past becoming impatient—he had been there for some time. His old mentor had kept to his promise to convince certain of the Aes Sedai to speak with him, but little good that did. All they wanted was to draw him into whatever convoluted schemes that they were spinning in Egwene's absence.

He walked quickly from the center camp, where the Aes Sedai's "city" was, and into the camp of Lord Bryne's armies. Today, he had met with Romanda Sedai, one of the Yellow Sitters; Bryne had warned him that he had reason to believe the woman very much wanted Egwene's place as Amyrlin, and was currently attempting to gain support amongst the sisters. How he knew that when Bryne had indicated early on that the Aes Sedai kept most things from him, Gawyn didn't know. The general had been oddly skittish when Gawyn had tried to press him on how he knew—he had dropped the matter after Bryne had flatly refused to speak of the subject any farther. Apparently, he had an inside source—how the blazes did a man, general or no, get an inside source amongst Aes Sedai?

Either way, it was all very troubling. However Bryne got his information, he could tell he was confident of its validity, which was more than enough for Gawyn. Did Egwene not realize that by not allowing a rescue that she risked losing her own followers? Gawyn couldn't care less about the state of the White Tower, but he knew Egwene did, and any possible usurper of the Amyrlin Seat amongst this group of rebels put Egwene at risk. That was all that mattered. Romanda had had no wish to speak of Egwene, and had changed the subject every time Gawyn had tried to bring talk of a rescue up, wanting to know of this situation in southern Andor, or that matter in Caemlyn. After his meeting with Romanda, he could easily believe Bryne's source, whoever they were.

Gawyn passed through the palisade ignoring his own tent as he walked past it. Bryne had allowed him to stay there, but Gawyn couldn't help but feel as if he allowed it partially to keep an eye on him. He felt a pang of hurt, as well as guilt, that the older man seemed to trust his shadowy source more than him. Bryne had been like a father to him for most of his young life—he remembered little of his real father. He knew the man was still suspicious of him, after having his soldiers killed by his men, and Gawyn himself acting as an agent for the White Tower—it might take years for him to regain the general's trust. He grimaced as he approached Bryne's tent; he wondered if Egwene's trust would be as difficult to regain after she knew of his former allegiance.

There was nothing to be done but to continue to speaking with the man, to attempt to regain that trust. With a sigh, he raised his voice as he stopped in front of the tent. "Gareth!"

There was a rustling from the tent. A moment passed, and the tent flap opened, revealing a young, dark haired woman holding a man's half blacked boot in one hand and a dirty rag in the other. Strangely, she had a familiar blue fringed shawl wrapped around her shoulders; an Aes Sedai cleaning Gareth Bryne's boots? Gawyn had seen quite a few unexplainable things in the past few months, but this one beat them all. She glared at him with angry blue eyes. "For the last time, Gareth bloody Bryne isn't here! The man is tramping through horse manure so I can clean his _other_ boots tonight—," she stopped, mid tirade, to stare at Gawyn, blue eyes wide. A long moment passed, and she licked her lips nervously and whispered, "Codswallop. He told me you were here."

Gawyn stared at the girl in amazement, trying to connect that pretty face with a memory. He squinted at her, his hand playing absent mindedly with the pommel of his sword. The girl's eyes widened, first moving from Gawyn's face, then to the sword, and then darting around the camp as if searching for someone or something. She shook her head slightly, and straightened. She shook the half polished boot at him, chastising him. "Gareth Bryne might not be pleased if you decide to kill his maidservant," she said tartly. "Perhaps you should ask _his_ permission before you draw that sword on me. Then again, I might be grateful. The man makes tangled netting seem simple, and it might be interesting to see if he weeps over my corpse or laughs instead."

He started as the pieces fell into place in his mind, memories from months past coming to surface: his sword, pressed against this woman's throat; Min pleading with him as he demanded to know the whereabouts of his sister and Egwene. "Siuan Sanche."

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his sword. After all these months, he wasn't sure if he still held his grunge against the former Amyrlin. Things had changed. Elayne was safe, now Queen of Andor. Egwene was another story, but according to Bryne, she simply refused to be rescued. A thought occurred to him: Was Siuan the general's source of information? It made as much sense as the woman's appearance before him, wrapped in an Aes Sedai's shawl, holding Gareth Bryne's half polished boots and claiming to be his maidservant—hadn't the woman been stilled? He glanced at her right hand, clutching Bryne's boot. The Great Serpent ring glittered in the overcast daylight. He shook his head, and gestured to the woman as a whole. Grunge or no grunge, he was not letting this woman out of his sight before a few things were explained. "How?"

She arched an eyebrow. "How what? Fish guts, I suppose my appearance is a bit odd to an outsider." A _bit _odd? Nothing of her present state made any sense. She gestured irritably at the boot with the dirty rag. "I owe Gareth bloody Bryne a debt that I said I would work off. That's all you need to know, and all the explanation you need as far as that's concerned. And if you listen to the gossip of the soldiers, or the other sisters for the matter, Gawyn Trakand, I'll box your ears!" Her cheeks were tinged a bright pink, and Gawyn felt his eyebrows climb a bit higher. The last time he'd seen that expression on a woman's face, it had been on a young Green sister who was speaking of a man she later bonded and, Gawyn had heard rumored, married. If he had had a hair's less training in diplomacy and tact, he would've gawked at her like a country lout.

"And I'm sure you're wondering about the shawl and the ring," she continued with a small sniff. "Well, I was Healed. Egwene's friend Nyneave managed to do the impossible. That woman is as stubborn as a devilfish, and has the temper of a silverpike, but she did the impossible, and for that, I'm grateful," she added, her voice taking on a husky note. Gawyn thought it was rather hypocritical that Siuan talked about Nyneave's temper when it sounded as if she was either going to hang Gareth Bryne by his ears or marry him. Siuan stared at him challengingly, her blue eyes ready for a fight. "Well, boy, if you're going to try to stab me with that metal stick of yours, hurry up. Gareth Bryne wanted to teach me to use one, you know." Actually, Gawyn didn't know that. He wondered if he was gawking now. "Insufferable man. Whether I know how to use one or not, I think you will find it difficult enough; even Gareth Bryne knows I could wrap you up unable to lift a finger, even if I can't do much more."

Gawyn struggled to find his voice. It was difficult, as he was having great difficulty forming even an idea of what he wanted to say to this woman. Killing her was not an option. If she was telling the truth—and he could see no reason why she wouldn't, given that he could easily call her bluff—there was little chance he could do so anyway. And even if he did manage to do so, to kill her would be to sign his own death warrant. Whatever Siuan was to Gareth Bryne, Gawyn had little doubt that the man would have no tolerance for the cold blooded murder of a woman in his camp. Former student of his or not, Gawyn would be led to the chopping block if he laid a hand on this pretty, young seeming woman. And as Gawyn raised his hands in a gesture of peace, he realized he could find little of the anger that had been in his heart all those months ago. He had no wish to kill Siuan.

"I'm not going to try to kill you," he said quietly. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I pledge on my sister's life I will not try to harm you, Siuan." Siuan nodded, still frowning, but she seemed to relax, letting her hands, still clutching the boot and the rag, fall to her side. "But I think we do need to talk."

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Fine." She ducked back into the general's tent, plainly expecting him to follow. The tent was as meticulous as it had been when Bryne had brought him here, though there were now shirts hanging from the laundry line that stretched from one side of the tent to the other. He ducked underneath the shirts to sit on a brass bound trunk, wondering if Siuan had strung the line across the tent to irritate Bryne.

Siuan poured them both a cup of tea and handed Gawyn one of the tin cups. He sniffed it, and realized it was the same tea that Bryne had claimed was supposed to "improve his health". Gawyn hid a smile by taking a long drink of the tea; he would have bet both his sword and Challenger against the dirty rag Siuan had discarded along with Bryne's boot that Siuan had been the one who prescribed the tea despite Bryne's dislike of it. He had to wonder why the general went along with it, and it occurred to him that he might want to make sure the general never found out the thought of killing Siuan had even crossed his mind.

She sat down on the camp stool across from him, narrowing her eyes. "What are you smirking about?"

He forced his face into a serious expression, realizing he had been grinning openly into his tea. While it was good to find some amusement in the world once again—he suddenly realized he hadn't truly laughed since before the White Tower coup—he knew Siuan would probably throw Bryne's boot at his head if she knew what he was thinking. "Nothing." He took a long drink from the cup, draining it. Honestly, it didn't taste _that_ bad. "Is Egwene really the rebel Amyrlin?"

She gave him a scornful look. "Yes, she is. And she won't thank you for doubting it, either." She drained her tea, picked up Bryne's boot again and began polishing it. "What are you doing here, boy? Bryne tells me you were the one behind the raids. He doesn't appreciate his men being killed. I'm surprised you're not under guard." She grimaced at the boot. "Or at the very least, working off a debt to him. Maybe I should let _you_ black his boots."

"For the same reason I once wanted to kill you," Gawyn replied quietly, running his finger along the brim of his empty cup. "I love Egwene. Gareth says she won't allow a rescue."

Siuan looked up from the boot, eying him appraisingly. "You abandoned your men and turned traitor because you love Egwene?" she asked flatly. "That's preposterous."

Gawyn shrugged. "One does strange things, for love." His eyes wandered from her face to the rag in her hand, which was carefully polishing the boot as they spoke.

Siuan followed his gaze and stiffened. With a sigh, she tossed the rag aside. "Oh, for the Blessed Light. Who am I to judge?" With a snort of disgust, she stood, sat the boot back down and began pacing the tent. It was nerve-wracking, watching her avoid the damp shirts that hung from the line. "No, she won't allow a rescue. Not that I haven't tried to convince her otherwise—she will hear none of it, though. She is convinced she can turn the sisters inside the Tower against Elaida by running about in novice white and sitting in a filthy cell."

He stood, no longer able to sit still himself. "Siuan, I must know. Is she in danger?"

She stopped beside the writing desk and began straightening Bryne's papers, although they were in perfect order. "Honestly? I don't know. My head tells me she is, but she is convinced Elaida wouldn't dare execute her." She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "Elaida is erratic and unpredictable. And ruthless. We would not be standing here if she wasn't. I don't like Egwene staying in there anymore than you do."

Her bluntness took Gawyn by surprise. He had expected a typical Aes Sedai answer, but it seemed Siuan's new circumstances had changed more than her face; either that, or her concern for Egwene outweighed her need to keep the vaunted Aes Sedai enigma. "Then you'll help me rescue her."

She dropped the papers back onto the desk. "No."

"_What?_"

Siuan reached up and began feeling the shirts, checking to see if they were dry. "I can't, Gawyn. I want to, but I can't."

"Why on earth not?" he asked desperately. Gareth Bryne may have refused to help him, but it seemed that Siuan valued Egwene as more than a liege lady. He couldn't understand.

"She's my friend, Gawyn," she replied, straightening one of the shirts and smoothing it out to prevent wrinkles. "That's why."

"Your _friend_?" he repeated incredulously, his voice rising in volume. His old anger burned through his body and his hand twitched, wanting to unsheathe his sword. He held it firmly at his side. No. He would attempt to sway her. "She's your friend, and you won't rescue her. Are you mad?"

Still holding the waist of the shirt in her hands, she raised both her fingers and the shirt to her face and took a long, deep breath, as if composing herself. "Do you have any idea how few friends I have?" she asked, her voice muffled by the cloth. "Egwene is my only real friend among the sisters. Many resent me. And I'm not as strong as I was before…I was stilled. Many notice me little more than they notice a novice. Others just think I _am_ mad, letting a man use me as his maidservant, when I am Aes Sedai." She dropped the shirt, letting it fall to hang neatly from the line. "I'm not so sure that they're wrong."

Gawyn clenched his teeth together. Where was she going with this? Why did the other Aes Sedai matter when Egwene's life was in danger? Why did Gareth Bryne matter? "I thought you owed him a debt."

"Do you think that matters to the other sisters?" she asked frowning at him. "Even Egwene has offered to stuff a bag of gold down his throat more than once. I will show Gareth bloody Bryne that I am an honorable woman, if I have to do his laundry for the next twenty years!"

She folded her arms, an expression on her face that was reminiscent of the Amyrlin she had once been, yet far more vulnerable than that hardened woman could have ever been. "So you see, Gawyn, I can't help you rescue Egwene anymore than I stop blacking Gareth Bryne's boots. I owe a debt to Bryne, and I swore to obey Egwene, friend or not."

Gawyn sat down again slowly, careful to seat himself on the trunk again, not on the ground. He felt as if the room were spinning, as his last hope for rescuing Egwene sat herself back on the camp stool to continue blacking his former mentor's boots. Part of him wanted to laugh. _One does strange things, for love_, he had said. Siuan was a testament to that, sitting on a camp stool in a soldiers' camp with her Great Serpents ring on one hand and a dirty rag in the other. He felt his anger at her fading, replaced with an odd feeling of kinship. It would be unfair of him to be angry with her for her stubbornness. Not when he had placed himself into the same trap.

"What if they try to execute her?" he asked quietly, watching as she turned the boot around to polish the other side.

She glanced up at him. "I convinced her to let us rescue her if it came to that." Siuan closed her eyes briefly, taking in a shuddering breath. "The Light only knows if we will have time if it comes to that—Elaida's 'justice' is swift and merciless."

They stared at each other for a moment, blue eyes meeting blue eyes in the dim light of the tent, the two former foes finding common ground in the midst of the madness of the world. They knew they could not do what they wished to do; not without losing the respect of the ones they loved and of a mentor or a student. Gawyn nodded silently, and stood. He turned to leave.

"I will pledge _this_ oath to you, Gawyn Trakand," Siuan's quiet voice spoke from behind him, the sound of leather squeaking reaching his ears as she finished polishing the boot. He glanced over his shoulder. "When the time comes to rescue Egwene, I will come find you." She gave him a small smile. "You will be the one to rescue her."

He smiled back and ducked through the tent flap to leave. He was glad he hadn't killed her.


End file.
